


futile devices

by glasscreature



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Fighting, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Illness, Repression, anger issues, how do i even tag this. it's just them being sad and gay and unable to talk about their feelings, tender moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-02 09:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasscreature/pseuds/glasscreature
Summary: and i would say i love you/ but saying it out loud is hard/so i won't say it at all/and i won't stay very longit all comes to blows one saturday, when mac tries to make kombucha and dennis forgets how to breath.





	1. Chapter 1

There are the things that they don’t talk about. There are the things that stay in the shoebox in the closet, and Dennis is perfectly fine with it staying that way, perfectly fine with it the way that nobody mentions how weird it is for two men in their mid 30s to live together with one of said 30 year old’s sister. The way nobody mentions how he hangs out with his friends from high school, his sister, and his dad, drinking every day. Dennis is perfectly fine with things staying this way, because they’ve reached their rhythm, all of them. Dennis doesn’t mention Mac’s tendency to come back, late at night, covered in glitter the same way Mac doesn’t mention the bottle of crazy pills that sits on the bathroom sink, full. They don’t mention how Charlie flinches everytime Uncle Jack touches him, or how Dee goes to therapy every Tuesday at 4:30 on the dot. They just drink, and scheme, and bicker, and Dennis is perfectly fine with that, until he’s not.

It all comes to blows one Saturday when Dennis comes back from the Wawa to find Mac standing in the middle of Dee’s kitchen, surrounded by the remains of a glass jar, a colored fluid, and something that looks weirdly like a beige jelly patty. 

“What in the goddamn hell is happening in here?!” Dennis yells as soon as he sees the scene, dropping the groceries on the couch and rubbing his temples.

“Charlie and Frank thought that we could make the bar more appealing to the young crowd if we started serving kombucha, so-” Mac starts, but Dennis holds out a hand to cut him off.

“You know what? I don’t care. I don’t care! I can’t deal with this! I mean, I mean-” he gestures at the strange jelly thing- “what in the fucking world is that?” Dennis starts pacing around the room, flexing and unflexing his fingers.

“Oh, that’s the scoby, it’s like some sort of worm thing that makes the kombucha, Dee got it from some girl in her yoga class-”

“Oh, wonderful! Great! We just have worms on our floor now? Where the hell is Dee, anyway? Honestly, no, I can’t fucking do this right now! What in the world did I do to deserve roommates that get worms and just leave them lying around?!” Dennis throws his hands in the air. “I’m taking some aspirin and taking a goddamn nap-” he says, opening the door, to find about 20 boxes on the bed.

“Oh my god! I can’t even sleep! In my own goddamn apartment!” Dennis yells, shoving the boxes off his bed.

“Oh-hey, no, don’t do that! That’s the CBD oil we ordered in bulk, you’ll break it!” Mac cries, running towards the bedroom to try to stop Dennis.

“OH, SO WE’RE DRUGGING OUR CUSTOMERS NOW? GREAT! JUST GREAT!” Dennis screams, throwing another box on the ground.

“No no no no! That shit is expensive!” Mac yelped, rushing to the ground to check the box Mac had just thrown. The little dropper bottles were smashed, leaking the oil all over the bottom of the cardboard box.

“I swear to god Mac, I am going to murder you, flay you, and nobody will find your body! Nobody!” Dennis screeches, his voice going high at the end.

“Den, den, please, calm down. You’re scary when you’re like this,” Mac says quietly, looking up at Dennis from the floor. Dennis clenches his hands, seeing flashes of red and images of Mac, dead, blood on his hands, blood everywhere, and shakes his head, opening his eyes. He lets out a sigh and rubs his temples again.

“I- I just can’t deal with this right now. I’m going out,” he says, trying to ignore Mac’s face falling. “Just get the boxes off the bed by the time I’m back, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Mac says softly, following him into the living room. Dennis picks up his keys from the counter and leaves, slamming the door. He find himself in his car, hands tight on the wheel, driving nowhere. He picks up a 6 pack and a pack of cigarettes at the 7/11, even though he knows there’s the beer back at the bar, because god knows he can’t deal with whatever Charlie and Frank’s side of this scheme is. He finds himself smoking and drinking in the parking lot. His head is killing him, and he knows the cigarettes don’t help, but they make him feel light-headed, like he’s going to fall over, which is good enough. He’s gone through half the six pack by the time he feels like he can go back to the apartment and maybe, just maybe, not murder Mac in cold blood. He sighs and puts the car into drive, knowing he’s really too old to be driving buzzed, but hell, he’s fine. He gets home and the kitchen is clean, thank god, and the boxes have been shoved into the closet. He settles onto the couch next to Mac, who’s watching some action flick. 

“Hey,” he says, tossing Mac a beer.

“Hey,” Mac replies, catching it. “Thanks,”  
“Yeah. What’s this?” Dennis just replies, cracking his fourth one open.

“Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift. Hey, uh…” Mac turns his head slightly towards Dennis. “You been taking your meds?” Dennis’s headache returns in full force, and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m wasn’t angry that there was jelly shit on the kitchen floor because I haven’t been taking my meds, I was angry because every time I come back to this apartment, some scheme has taken over half the place and made the damn place unlivable!” Dennis replies in as calm a voice he can muster.

“Well, have you?” Mac says, staring straight ahead at the tv. His hands crawl over the remote, flipping it over and running the pads of his fingers over the buttons.

“They don’t work,” Dennis growls quietly. “They make everything...fuzzy. Like the world is out of focus. I don’t need quack pills anyway, I’m not crazy.” Dennis says, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. God knows he doesn’t need another fight with Mac.

“They’re prescribed to you, man. By a  _ doctor _ . And… I don’t know, recently you’ve been flipping out more.” Mac’s voice is so gentle it makes Dennis want to spit. 

“Stop it,” he snaps.

“What?” Mac replies, confusion written on his face.

“This!” Dennis says, gesturing at the air. “I’m not some fucking wilting flower that you have to fix! I’m under control, okay? You can stop pretending to care about me,” He knows he shouldn’t let himself get so worked up, but it’s one of those things, Mac knows- they don’t talk about it.

“What? I care about you, bro!” Mac says, pouting and crossing his arms. “I just don’t want...I’m just worried what will happen if you snap,” he says quietly, looking at his feet. And this is it- snap? Dennis is  _ not _ going to fucking  _ snap _ , he is under  _ complete _ control of himself, his emotions, his weight, his looks. He is a  _ god _ . 

“You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you, I am not going to snap. What the hell do you know? You’re the one who has all these  _ feelings _ you need to talk about, yet you’re completely oblivious to the fact you’re a complete fag!” Dennis says, getting up and gaining speed with every passing word. “Stop trying with this pathetic attempt to fix me! You can’t even fix yourself,” he sneers at him, and he doesn’t mean it, not really, but the words feel right coming out of his mouth. They feel like the culmination of all these years of pretending that they aren’t all fucked up, pathetic, alcoholic losers. 

Mac just laughs in a cruel sort of way, shaking his head and resettling on the couch. “Goddammit, Dennis. You’re the fuckin’ oblivious one, you know that? Haven’t you seen how Charlie gets when you yell? He cowers, Dennis. He  _ cowers. _ ” And just as well as Dennis knows how to get Mac, Mac can get him.

“No he doesn’t,” Dennis says like an accusation.

“Dennis, he thinks you’re going to kill him.” Mac is still sitting on the couch like nothing is happening, like it’s some normal fucking conversation. 

“I-I don’t have to prove myself to you! I am in complete control!” Dennis is screaming now- he grabs the glass on the counter and smashes it on the ground.

“Oh you  _ bitch _ , I just cleaned that up!” Mac replies, jumping up.

“Oh? Oh, so that’s what it takes for you to care?” Dennis spits at him. “You’re a disgusting, filthy fag-“ Dennis raises another jar from the counter, and Mac rushes towards him, yelling about kombucha. They crash onto the floor in a mix of elbows, knees, and glass.

“Aagh! What the fuck, man!” Dennis whines from underneath Mac. Mac holds the remains of the jar in his hand, in addition to that weird worm thing from earlier.

“You motherfucker! I already broke the first jar I tried to make kombucha in!” Mac yells.

“Fuck your kombucha, I’m lying in glass!” Dennis cries out.

“You called me a fuckin fag!” Mac replies, with anger in his voice.

“That’s cause you are,” Dennis says, and he supposes he deserves it when Mac lands a punch on him, square in the jaw. Dennis rolls them over, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the little pieces of glass cutting into his back. He matches Mac and punches him in the teeth, Mac yelping. His arm is wound up, about to hit him again when Mac knees him in the groin. 

“Aaaaagh! You can’t do that!” Dennis says, his hands going to his wounded testicles.

“No rules in karate, bitch,” is Mac’s reply as he rolls them over again so that Mac is on top of him. Dennis squirms, trying to get a hit in, but soon enough Mac’s got his arms and legs pinned down to the ground.

“Dammit, Den,” Mac says between heavy breaths. Dennis stops struggling and Mac’s pressure on his arms loosens. “Why do you have to do this?” He sounds tired.

“Do what?” Dennis replies, panting from Mac’s knees on his chest. “Move, I can’t breath,” he adds on. Mac shifts so that he’s sitting on his knees between Dennis’s legs.

“Make it so hard to love you,” Mac sighs.

“I-You?” Dennis says, confused. “Love me?” His voice wanes.

“Why do you always have to hurt the people who care about you?” Mac says, not answering his question. He’s looking at the cabinet, eyes far away.

“I don’t,” is his weak reply, voice almost inaudible, dragging himself up to a sitting position. Mac looks at him. He looks at him tenderly, like a dog he’s going to put down. Dennis’s mouth is open, stupidly. Mac leans in and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. When they break away, Dennis opens his mouth, but Mac shakes his head.

“Don’t say anything. I...I know you’re not-” But Dennis interrupts him, kissing him like a hungry man who hasn’t eaten in days. It takes a second for Mac to kiss him back, surprised, when Dennis’s hand lands in Mac’s hair. Mac shifts forward, off his knees, and strokes his hands up Dennis’s neck. They break apart, and Dennis leans his head on Mac’s chest, just breathing.

“Your skin’s so soft,” Mac says quietly, breaking the silence. He traces his finger up Dennis’s neck and gently pushes a curl of his hair behind his ear. Dennis exhales sharply in something that sounds like a laugh.

“I buy Clinique for a reason,” Dennis replies. They sit like that for a moment, just breathing, Mac running his fingers through Dennis’s hair, Dennis listening to Mac’s heartbeat. Dennis’s back hurts, vaguely, but it’s easy enough to ignore in the quiet of the apartment, the movie still playing and providing a background hum. 

“This confuses me,” Dennis says, and Mac laughs softly, because goddamn if it’s not the most earnest thing Dennis has said in days, hell, maybe even years.

“Yeah,” Mac sighs. “Me too,” They sit there, and a little part of Mac hopes it never ends- hope they just sit here, bloody and broken but frozen, til the end of time. 

“We should probably clean up this glass, huh?” Dennis says, like he can hear Mac’s thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Mac says, and gets up, pulling Dennis up with him. That, of course is the moment that Dee walks in the room.

\----

“What the HELL have you done to my apartment?!” Dee shrieks. “Oh my god, it looks like someone was murdered in here!” Mac shrugs.

“We got into a fight,” Dennis explains. 

“And you had to that on my kitchen floor? I swear to god, you guys are the WORST roommates, and I am going to bed!” Dee throws her bag down on the floor and stomps off into her bedroom, with a cry of “You better clean that shit up or I’m throwing you two on the street, for real this time!”

“Okay, bird!” Dennis yells out, and him and Mac dissolve into laughs.

They get the floor cleaned up, and bicker while Mac picks the pieces of glass out of Dennis’s back. They finish the movie afterwards, and if they’re lying on the couch a little bit closer to each other than normal, well, that’s nobody’s business. Dennis, ever the light sleeper, passes out in the middle of the climax. Dennis rests his head on Mac’s chest. The movie ends and the credits roll, the soft blue light of the tv the only thing illuminating the room.

“I think I love you too,” Dennis whispers into the dark, and Mac breathes in and out softly. “I just don’t know how to,” he sighs, untangling himself from Mac and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. He tosses a blanket on Mac, turning the tv off and settling himself onto the air matress. He sits there in the dark for hours.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dennis makes a realization.

Dennis realizes that a lot of their friendship, his and Mac’s, relies on not talking about things. For instance, they absolutely do not talk about the nights where Dennis comes home blackout drunk, and collapses on the mattress next to Mac, and holds him like he might fall apart. They don’t talk about the little white scars on the back of Mac’s left thigh, “one for every time I failed,” which Dennis knows because of the one time Mac stumbled out of his room at midnight, knees raw from kneeling on the floor and voice hoarse from prayer. They accept these little things, and wake up in the morning and drink their damn coffee like everyone else. Dennis realizes this at the bar, sitting and lounging around halfway to drunk on a slow day. He considers telling someone this realization. He doesn’t.  
—-  
Four more beers and two shots of tequila later, he finds himself at Charlie’s apartment.  
“Chaaarlie,” he yells, pounding on the door.  
“What, what?” Charlie says, opening the door, reeking of weed.  
“Oh man, do you have weed?” Dennis says, eyebrows perking up. Charlie squints at him.  
“...Maybe.” he replies coyly, only leaving the door open a wedge.  
“What the hell does that mean? Come on man, let me in, I know you have weed.” Dennis whined.  
“Fine, whatever, get in here. I don’t want the cats to get a whiff,” Charlie says, looking both ways down the hallway before pulling Dennis in. He’s wearing his nasty grey joggers (used to be grey, at least) and plops down on the bed after shutting the door.  
“Cats? I- actually nope, not even going to ask. You got weed?” Dennis asks, rubbing his temple. 

They spend the afternoon smoking, Dennis high enough that he doesn’t mind sitting on Frank and Charlie’s nasty pullout.  
“Where’s Frank?” he asks, fingers twirling around the dwindling joint.  
“The IRS is on his ass, so he’s… y'know, running around,” Charlie replies vaguely, holding his hand out.  
“Mm,” Dennis hums, handing him the joint. His mind wanders onto the situation of the other night- neither he nor Mac dared broach the subject, but he could tell Mac was edging away from his touches that he normally allowed. Dennis spent hours at night, mind curling round and round what Mac had said, and how he’d reacted- what had he meant by that? He always knew Mac loved him, vaguely- who wouldn’t, but he had never said it aloud before, and certainly not like that.  
“Charlie,” Dennis rasps. Charlie rolls his head to look at him.  
“Yea?” he replies absently.  
“I think I’m in love with Mac,” he says quietly.  
“Duh,” Charlie takes another hit of the joint and passes it to Dennis, whose mouth lay open.  
“W-what? That’s it?” Dennis says, trying to keep the shrill edge off his voice.  
“Yeah, duh. D-U-H-uh,” he says, pronouncing the letters.  
“That’s- wait, why though?” Dennis says, trying to wrap his head around it, letting the joint burn out in his hand.  
“I don’t know, man. It’s just… you know. Mac and Dennis. When was the last time either of you had a long time girlfriend?” Charlie sighs, like this was all terribly obvious and Dennis was the stupid one.  
“Well, I don’t do dating,” Dennis replies, pouting. “Hey, gimme the lighter,” he drawls.  
“Yeah, sure. And Mac?” Charlie says, handing him it.  
“He’s gay,” Dennis says matter-of-factly, lighting the joint and taking another puff.  
“Yeah, but- whatever, just trust me on this,” Charlie says, waving his hand at Dennis.  
“Trust YOU?” Dennis sneers, “Yeah, I’ll be sure to trust the man who’s been obsessively in love with a woman who has a restraining order against him for over a decade,” Dennis throws his hands in the air. Charlie shrugs.  
“Alright, man. Ask Dee if you don’t believe me,” Charlie says, snatching the joint from Dennis.  
“The bird? Not gonna happen,” Dennis mutters, combing a hand through his hair.  
———-  
“Deeeeee,” Dennis whines, swinging open the door and stalking into Paddy’s.  
“Good of you to finally show up,” she sneers from behind the bar. “Are you drunk too? Ugh,” she says, shaking her head and putting down the rag she was holding.  
“Nuh-uh, I’m crossfaded,” Dennis says indignantly, hopping onto a bar stool.  
“Crossfaded? The hell does that mean?” Dee replied, leaning forward, bony arms extended to meet the bar.  
“It means, you plebeian, that I am drunk and high,” he said, waving his hand at her. “That’s not- just shut up. Do you think Mac and I are in love?”  
“Obviously,” she said, grabbing a beer. “You’re just both too dumb, to like, do anything about it.” she comments, pointing her beer towards him.  
“What?! Look, if I was in love with Mac, which I am NOT, I would be like, on top of him,” Dennis slurs, narrowing his eyes at Dee. She shrugs and takes a sip of her beer, leaning back.  
“Okay, dumbass. You’ve shared an apartment with the same guy since you got out of college, who you have monthly dinners with, and jack off with. Please tell me what part of that doesn’t sound like a relationship.” She rolls her eyes at him.  
“I- you- shut up! You and Charlie don’t know shit,” Dennis pouts, storming back out the bar. He drives back home, which would be a hazard if it wasn’t game night, everyone cooped up at home or at bars. He manages to get back to Dee’s apartment without dying, and collapses on the couch. Where the hell is Mac, anyway? He doesn’t have the energy to text him, so he just lies down and thinks. There are a lot of things Dennis are good at- most things, actually- but he is a realist, and he knows that feelings are not one of them. But alcohol loosens him, makes it so that those things he usually locks up deep can be nudged open, if just a little. Mac and him would never be a thing- never, never, but...what if? Hypotheticals are safe. Hypothetically, if he and Mac did start dating- what would happen? If he and Mac became that gay couple, if- no, he could never be seen that way. Dennis may dabble, but gay, is just… no. Something about only sleeping with Mac doesn’t sit with him right. Hypothetically, of course. Having sex with Mac would be… yech. Wouldn’t that technically be like only one degree of separation between fucking his mom? Mac, hypothetically, is kind of okay, Dennis thinks. He’s got nice hair, when he’s not slathering it in gel, and his physique ever since he lost all the weight is pretty okay too. 

Dennis is not good at feelings, but he is good at plans. So he makes a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yech sorry abt the ending- originally this chapter had more but im indecisive about how i wanna keep going w this so idk have this

**Author's Note:**

> what is this? no clue. i just wrote basically in a single sitting and.... yep. anyway this show has ruined me. i wanna keep writing this, but school&stuff so, idk, don't count on it. title comes from the sufjan stevens song because i'm unoriginal!!


End file.
